


Exception to the Rule

by jane_potter



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-27
Updated: 2009-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jane_potter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during TDK. How did Batman get into the interrogation room with the Joker? More importantly, what did he think of being led to believe that his only ally in the police force was dead, and just what did he have to say to Jim Gordon about that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exception to the Rule

**Author's Note:**

> My very first TDK fic. Beta'd by lady_bathos, aka beautifulsilversilence.

As he climbed the stairs to the roof of Gotham's MCU headquarters, Jim Gordon felt like nothing more than a single huge throb of pain. His back was the most obvious agony, a dull stab of fire shooting down his spine with every step he took. There was an enormous, purple-yellow bruise between his shoulder blades, where even the Kevlar vest hadn't totally protected him from the bullet he had taken for Mayor Garcia. Jim's skin stung beneath his suit where the unfamiliar SWAT riot gear had chafed him earlier that night. And that was not to mention the manic car chase down the Lower Fifth, with the Joker in pursuit of Harvey Dent-- Jim was sure he had whiplash, and his entire body was still knotted with nervous tension.

Not for the first time that day, Jim wondered how Batman could do it every night.

C _an he still do it_ tonight _?_ the newly-instated commissioner thought, unlocking the door to the roof and stepping out into the black Gotham night. Jim's ears were still ringing with the grating shriek of metal on pavement as the Batman skidded out of control, swerving just in time to miss running down the Joker and slamming his motorcycle into the wreckage of the hijacked semi-truck. _I didn't even crash the SWAT truck tonight, thanks to him, and I feel like I've been put through a meat grinder. Either I'm getting old, or he's made of steel_.

Gravel crunched beneath Jim's shoes as he crossed the rooftop, barely illuminated by the orange glow of streetlights and skyscrapers. The Batsignal loomed impressively in the gloom, a black hulk of metal and glass. Jim reached for the lever to turn it on, pulled, grimaced as the bruise on his back throbbed hotly--

\--and leaped backwards with a startled curse as the floodlight's glare illuminated Batman's silent figure standing barely two feet away on the other side of the signal, black and lurking. Wincing in pain, Jim took his hand away from his gun holster, aware that he was far too keyed up.

"Batman," he said, struggling not to sound as flustered as he felt. The masked man simply stared. This was nothing out of the ordinary, but Jim could almost feel waves of anger radiating off Batman's armoured figure. Although the planes of Batman's cowl always glowered, judging by the compressed line of his mouth and the clench of his jaw, this time Batman truly was furious.

"Gordon." Batman's hoarse rasp sent a shiver down Jim's spine. Everything about the man-- his voice, his size, his musculature-- screamed of danger even though Jim knew that they were on the same side. But the vigilante's rage, obvious even in the clipped syllables of Jim's name, gave the comissioner reason to be nervous.

"I--"

"You're alive."

Jim winced. He'd gotten that same reaction from no less than sixteen people in the last four hours that he had "come back to life".

"I just--"

"You didn't tell me you were going to do this."

"I--"

"I thought you were dead," Batman growled. The reflection of the floodlight made his black eyes glitter.

"I had to protect my family!" Jim shouted, frustrated with being interrupted.

" _I thought he had killed you_!" roared the vigilante, and Jim flinched backwards. Suddenly breathing heavily, Batman subsided into the shadows farther behind the spotlight, only the faint shine off his armour delineating his massive body from the nighttime blackness.

Jim felt his skin prickle with alarm at the harsh rasp of the Batman's respiration. The man could scale sheer walls and leap alleyways; he could lift several hundred pounds of struggling criminal with a single hand and survive falling from buildings and rooftops-- but now he was short of breath over an argument? Over _Jim_?

"I'm sorry," Jim said shakily, looking down at his shoes and running a hand through his hair. "I had to keep the Joker from targeting my family. Barbara-- the kids..." He trailed off, feeling cold.

"Don't ever do that again."

At the harsh order, Jim looked up sharply, frowning. "Dammit, I had no choice!" he snapped. He'd explained this more than a dozen times already and the work he had still to do that night was immense; Jim Gordon was _not_ in the mood to take orders from a man he hardly knew and barely saw anything of, Batman or not.

"I was going to kill him," Batman said softly, his guttural voice nothing but consonants and broken glass. Jim froze.

"Wh-what?"

"When I heard that the Joker had shot you, I was prepared to break my rule, Gordon."

Batman moved in the shadows, his cape rustling as he circled the glaring floodlight to stare directly at Jim, his eyes shining and wild from behind the cowl and eyeblack.

"I went after the Joker tonight fully intending to murder him," Batman snarled, his teeth bared. His entire body was tight and trembling with rage. When Jim took an involuntary step back, the vigilante closed the distance again. "I _wanted_ to _kill him_!"

"And you blame me?" shouted Jim, backing up another step. "I did what I had to do!"

" _You didn't tell me_!"

"I didn't tell anybody!" the commissioner yelled back, feeling trapped, defensive. "I couldn't risk--"

"You consider me a _security risk_?" demanded Batman. Suddenly he was towering above Jim, fists clenched and trembling, his face transformed by the mask into something animal and rabid.

Jim reeled backwards, stunned by the raw, bleeding ferocity beneath the Batman's usual steel-fisted self-control. Grasping for orientation, he fumbled, "Why didn't you kill the Joker, then, if you were going to?"

"I _meant_ to," snarled Batman. "Do you think I rode down on the Joker like that tonight just to play chicken with him?"

"Well, then _why didn't you_?" yelled Jim, frustrated with the masked man. He had held a gun to the Joker's head that night and barely been able to stop himself from pulling the trigger, from destroying the monster as he crouched over Batman with a knife in his hand.

"I _couldn_ 't! I only have one rule, Gordon, and I couldn't do it!"

"I don't even know why you _tried_ ," Jim snapped, staring into Batman's glittering black eyes. "The Joker must not win! He _wanted_ to break you, to drag you down, don't you understand? The Joker's not worth losing your honor over!"

" _But you are_!" Batman thundered, whirling and grabbing a fistful of Jim's coat, dragging them face to face. The vigilante's harsh breathing washed hot in Jim's face. "Batman has few enough allies as it is, Gordon. You're an honest cop in a corrupt system, and you're the city's new commissioner of police in a time when everybody is afraid to step forward to lead for fear of being targeted. Gotham can't afford to lose you."

Jim's heart thudded frantically in his chest as he stared up at Batman, riveted by black eyes that shone with pain and desperation and _fear_ beneath the frantic rage that was fading from the Batman's expression. Then the vigilante's eyes flickered downwards, and a shiver of shock crossed his face as he saw his massive fists twisted in Jim's coat, lifting the older man up onto his toes as though he were one of the criminals Batman faced on a nightly basis.

Recoiling just slightly, his hands unclenched immediately, allowing Jim to drop back to his feet, shaking. But the Batman didn't move another inch, remaining face to face with Jim with bare inches between them, as if he feared that moving might once more cause him to lose control of the tightly-wound coil of stress that was his body, reflexively honed to reacting in violence when strained.

 _How far has this pushed him already_? Jim wondered distantly, as the rest of him stood frozen like a rabbit before a wolf. _If_ I _hurt, then what does he feel_? It was suddenly hard to swallow the idea that the vigilante Batman was not, in fact, as invulnerable as he appeared, nor as immovable. The Joker _rattled_ him as much as he did Jim. The only difference was, Jim wasn't strong enough to break bones with his bare fists if he lost control even for a second. And-- was that fear in his dark eyes?-- Batman _had_ to know that, too.

Over the moan of the wind, Batman spoke softly, his lips barely moving. " _I_ can't afford to lose you."

The door flew open with a bang, and both Batman and Jim whirled to see Stephens charge onto the roof, gun drawn. Immediately, Batman backed away from Jim, bleeding silently back into the darkness as his silhouette was obscured by his fluttering cape.

"Jim?" asked the cop warily, glancing between him and Batman. "We thought we heard trouble from downstairs."

"It's alright, Stephens," Jim said wearily, and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "Everything's... everything's fine."

Stephens holstered his gun, stepping cautiously towards Jim. Then he started, peering over Jim's shoulder. "Where the hell did--?"

Jim whirled around, panicked as he remembered suddenly what he had originally come up onto the roof to call Batman for. "No!" he shouted, running towards the Batsignal. "No, wait! There's something I have to tell you!"

After a long moment of total silence, in which Jim's heart sank as he grew certain that the vigilante had already left, Batman's eerie silhouette emerged faintly from the blackness once more.

His voice shaking, Jim said forced himself to say, "Harvey Dent left with one of my officers tonight. He never made it home."

Batman said nothing. Accustomed to this, as opposed to the masked man's fury, Jim continued tiredly. "I don't doubt the Joker's got something to do with this. We're going to move him to interrogation right away."

"You really think you can break him as fast as you need to?" Batman growled. His voice was controlled and neutral once more, much to Jim's relief. He had gotten used to thinking of Batman as an ally, and it had been frightening to be reminded so brutally that the man was neither safe nor totally sane. "And you do need to move fast, Gordon. I don't know what, but the Joker's got something up his sleeve."

Jim took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes hard, exhausted and sore all over. He wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head. "Stephens," he said finally, replacing his glasses. "Have you moved him to the room yet?"

"Not yet."

"Tell the men to hold off for a moment." Stephens left quickly, with a last glance at Batman. Jim looked at the vigilante, who stared back emotionlessly. "Can you do it, then?"

"Yes. Lights off. One lamp on the table."

Jim couldn't help but look over the man once more, his mouth tight. "Can you stay in control?" he asked eventually. If he couldn't trust the Batman, then who could he trust? But still, he remembered the snarling crack of frustration, the outburst of violence, even if for only a matter of seconds. Never in all the months of their partnership had Batman ever done such a thing. The man was standing on a razor edge, and Jim didn't want to risk pushing such a powerful force over the edge by allowing him into a room alone with the Joker.

The Batman said nothing. Was it a trick of the light, or had his jaw clenched? "Yes," he rasped finally, his voice even more guttural than usual. "I'm in control."

"All right," said Jim softly, reluctantly. Repeating that promise in his head as if to reassure himself, he crossed over to the Batsignal and turned it off, wincing as he pulled his injured back again. "I'll go clear the rookies out of your way. I take it you know where the interrogation room is?"

No answer. No sight of Batman.

 _Of course not_ , though Jim, with a touch of bitterness. _There never is. I get the last word and he_ still _leaves me hanging every time_.

Heading back down the stairs with a slight limp, he thought back on the conversation, the shouting. He remembered the raw pain in Batman's eyes at the thought that his only ally in the police force had been killed, and it was then that Jim realised that he felt bad for not asking if Batman wanted a couple of Asprin before going in to face the Joker.


End file.
